


Washed In The Tide Of Her Breathing

by Nyxierose



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 17:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3859309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/pseuds/Nyxierose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Lincoln finally tells Octavia he loves her. Canon'verse fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Washed In The Tide Of Her Breathing

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Cherry Wine" by Hozier. Cross-posted on my tumblr (electricbluebutterflies).

He realizes he loves her on a cold day in early winter. It’s snowing for only the second time that season, and being surrounded by a large number of people who aren’t totally sure what snow  _is_  makes Lincoln’s heart light in a way it hasn’t been since… well, he can’t actually remember the last time things felt this way. There are no threats on the horizon, it’s been over a week since someone last questioned his place within these electric-wired walls, and there is absolutely nothing for him to do but watch his partner  _finally_  act as young and innocent as she is. And that, somehow, is what makes everything click in his head.

They’ve known each other for close to three months now and been a thing for about three  _days_  less than that, and he’s lost track of the number of times he’s nearly died to keep her safe (not to mention the time he actually  _did_  die, but that had nothing to do with her in the grand scheme of things), but he’s managed to keep emotions under control towards Octavia. He’s known from the moment he saw her that he would give up the world for her, but he also knows not to say too much too soon. Especially given what he knows of her background, he’s pretty sure that grand declarations of love or promises he might not totally be able to keep are a bad idea. On the one hand, it’s possible verging on likely that she’s a hopeless romantic. On the other, they don’t speak of futures. Things are fine  _now_ , but what’ll happen next week is anyone’s guess, let alone the years to come. They take what they can, when they can, and that’s been enough.

But as he watches her little body dart around - her friends have figured out snowball fights and it’s hilarious because a good half of them have no aim and at least one isn’t doing too great with physical coordination in general - he realizes he can’t keep that line for much longer. No matter how much he wants to continue on with that little delusion.

There’s just, y’know, the small matter of how to have that conversation.

For the most part, communication is one of the great strengths of their relationship. He’s given her more info than she will  _ever_  need to know about his culture, and she’s… well, admittedly she’s still trying to figure out Ark culture for herself, but she lets him join in the journey. When they’re safe in their space for the night - they’re being treated as a married pair for the sake of keeping things simple, even though she’s technically too young and neither of them is quite ready for commitment - she talks about weapons training and he talks about what certain other people have decided will be referred to as survival lessons. There are no new secrets, they’ve made that rule very clear. He tells her when he’s having an off day and she explains as many of her new scars and bruises as she can. They have this down. And yet there’s still room for him to completely fuck it up.

Really, it shouldn’t be that hard. He’s not even sure if he  _needs_  to say it, if words are necessary to anchor what both of them already know. It’s just, he feels like he ought to, because while Octavia is light and life as far as he’s concerned, she’s also a perpetual misfit and therefore needs to be told as often as possible that she is wanted. He understands because he feels the exact same way. Maybe a little different, seeing as he dealt with it by pretty much avoiding everyone he knew for a solid two years, but the core emotion is the same. He gets it, he really does. He’s just not sure what to do.

Lost in thought as he is, he’s almost surprised how long it takes for his partner to throw a snowball at his good shoulder (never mind that “good” is becoming a relative concept regarding his body). He blinks and there she is, eight feet away from him with a satisfied look on her face, and he’s torn between wanting to kiss it right off and wanting to get her back. Neither is really a good idea, but he can’t completely ignore the situation either…

As usual, she solves the situation for him, walking closer and swaying her hips a little like she only seems to do when she’s about to do something that will result in a lack of sleep for him (in the not-fun way). “You’ve been watching for  _hours_ ,” she mutters, looking up at him all big-eyed. Gods, this woman will be the death of him even if neither of them ever sees battle again. “Are you gonna join in or not?”

“I think it’s safer if I just  _keep_  watching,” Lincoln laughs. “Not sure if-”

“They like you,” she interjects, rolling her eyes. “Some of them only like you because  _I_  like you and they’re all completely terrified of me, but they’re getting there I promise.”

“It’s not because of that.” Truth be told, Lincoln still doesn’t understand most of those kids, but he likes them in an objective sense. He simply has no desire to get in the middle of… whatever the hell this situation has turned into, that’s all.

“Then what is it? Talk to me.”

“Octavia, I… I love you.”

For a few utterly terrifying moments, she is still in a way he did not know her body was even capable of being. Then, in a fluid movement, she about tackles him. This is how she shows her affection, he’s learned, and he knows to brace at the exact right moment and not even think about moving his body again until the weight of her feels right. Only then, when she kisses him like fire, is everything okay.

She’s laughing. She’s laughing and the slight pressure against his lips - she refuses to fully break the kiss - is one of the best things he’s ever felt and also maybe one of the most terrifying. He’s never completely sure with her, and he fears for the day when he will be. As much as he loves her, being in a relationship with Octavia is a lot like being in a relationship with a hurricane, and the fact that he will never reveal that thought pattern to anyone is proof that he is still human.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, tilting his head back just enough to breathe.

“I was expecting some story about why you  _hate_  snowball fights and instead you finally tell me you love me,” she laughs. “That is so, so you.”

“Is that bad?”

“No. Just… not something I expected. I guess I thought we were going to have that moment after something bad happened. Not… not anything like this.”

So definitely bad timing, he thinks. Even telling her right after sex would’ve been preferable - even aware as he is of how cliché and awful that’d be.  _This_ , on the other hand, is-

“For the record, I love you too,” she says, cutting off his thoughts again. “And I’ve waited way too long to say it. Used those words with everyone else, but not the person who matters.”

She kisses him again, harder and deeper and questionably appropriate considering they are still in a _very_  public location, and he tugs at the sleeve of her jacket until she pulls away. “What, something wrong?”

“We should go somewhere… else,” he mutters, just low enough for her to hear.

“We should,” she agrees. “As much as I really hate being fucked on that so-called mattress…”

“You top most of the time anyways, Tae.”

“Yeah, because someone hates us enough to basically make us sleep on solid metal and I’m trying to make the best of things. And because you like it. Now c’mon.”


End file.
